The Whirling Darkness: The Jusori Chronicles
by V H Hellenstein
Summary: A dark tale weaves across Konoha, of the existence of a murderous Genin let loose and rampant. And away from the eyes of many, the sinister ANBU Root works to forward their ulterior agenda.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Black clouds and cold rain loom over a solemn Konoha. A weary Tsunade looked out of her windows over her city, her eyes sagged and bruised by sleepless nights. Her face tired with frowns formed over many troubled thoughts. She tried to focus, but all that could be invoked in her mind was the visage of her dead brother. Her back slouched, and guard lowered to a dangerous point of vulnerability.

"The families of the deceased wish to have an audience with you," the voice of her aide reached her ears, Shizune stood by the opened doorway, her saddened face weighing down the already dreary climate.

Tsunade remained silent for a brief moment, dragging the minute as she composed her emotions and thoughts.

"What do you suppose I should tell the family?" Tsunade asked rhetorically.

Shizune did not reply.

"Two Genins are dead, and Jounin Hana now lies in a deep coma," Tsunade inflected, "Fledglings barely the age of 12 killed even before the initiation. A simple test that was supposed to gauge their competencies turned into a deathmatch right under my watch…

…It was supposed to be a simple test," Tsunade breathed.

"You're getting soft, Tsunade," another voice interjected, the Fifth Hokage turned and saw a slouching old man, his entire left eye bandaged. Tsunade's sat herself up, her melancholic gaze transformed over a fraction of a second, now they twitched in irritation as the shady character took a step forward.

"Leave us be," the old man with his deep slow voice, sternly ordered Shizune away.

Shizune hesitated for a moment, before she slipped away and closed the door.

The hunched man, with his walking stick, took another step, "The day when you accepted the Hokage's mantle, you already know well that you have to get your hands dirty."

She studied the man thoroughly, trying to read his thoughts…but there were none.

"Yes, Danzou," Tsunade replied to the head of ANBU Root - a secondary, and arguably more sinister organizational arm of ANBU specializing in high-profile covert operations. "…I remember our agreement. The perpetrator is not to be touched or prosecuted." Tsunade had no idea what he wanted, but every meeting with him had always result in strange consequences. He is a master manipulator, and she best be cautious.

"I do not question your level of interference in this matter," Danzou replied, "…nor am I worried about your intentions and actions that would favor the greater interest for Konoha. After all, the stability of Konoha is very much in your hands…"

"Danzou, we've been through this," Tsunade shifted in her seat, "…GET TO THE POINT."

Danzou fell silent for a moment, "You've asked yourself a question that I'd like to hear the answer to…"

Tsunade narrowed her eyes.

"What would you tell the families of the wounded Jounin and the dead Genins?" Danzou asked.

Tsunade did not reply.

"A Genin... with no relative ties here in Konoha, killed his team members and put his Jounin into coma. How would you explain to the grieving parents that he is still allowed to roam the streets?"

"What would you do when they demand his blood? How would you have them contend with injustice?"

"What would you do if they sink their nose deeper into the mission? Jeopardizing the confidentiality of our operations?"

Tsunade remained silent.

Danzou waited for a short moment, "Tsunade…despite your competencies and excellent track record, you still have much to learn when it comes to internal affairs."

The silence stretched longer.

"You don't have an answer," Danzou surmised, "Very well." The old man turned to exit the room.

"Wait," Tsunade almost got up, "That's it?"

Danzou stopped in his steps, turned his head slightly, "You are not ready to deal with this. The ANBU Root will take over this mission."

Tsunade stunned, as at the moment, hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind. She imagined all the pre-emptive, menacing activities the ANBU Root could do to stem instability and riots, actions and methods that went against her very principals and moral compass.

But she yielded, she knew she was not equipped to handle the mission.

"What would happen to the families?"she asked, but instantly felt that she would regret knowing the answer.

"As I have told you, Tsunade," Danzou replied, "You are not ready."

He turned and exited the room.

"Shit," Tsunade exclaimed, and slumped back into her seat.

She had just sentenced three families to death.


	2. Chapter 1 Howl of the Twilight Wolf

Author's Preamble: This story has been floating in my head for quite some time now. It's only now that I've vigorously cracked my mind to get a cohesive narration and plot going on. Well, thanks to the recent review. You know who you are. Well, this is the best I can come up with. Won't say much now, except for...ENJOY.

Read and Review please.

* * *

Chapter 1: Howl of the Twilight Wolf

Six Months Ago.

The deafening crackle whipped up by the first lash of lighting opened up the heavy, black clouds. The first slew of raindrops poured from the skies, and the morning, instantly, had no more chance of absorbing the warmth of the early sun. The imminent storm seemed to not wanting to leave anytime soon, as the air has already been wrapped tight by the wind. Sharp as a sickle, the leaves were ripped off the trees, trunks bent over by the powers of the darkening, maddening weather.

A few tiles from the Academy's roofs rattled before being peeled by the brewing hurricane, allowing rain to gather and seep into the building.

"Strange weather," Takeshi murmured to himself while his gaze was cast out the window from his one remaining eye, patched. His healthy eye frowned at the weather, the dampness was saddling him with grief and despair. The impairment of his vision was probably challenging his depth perception – at the great distance the heavy clouds appeared to be in a chalky blur. But he could not seem to recall a similar phenomenon, he could not remember that Konoha ever had such a terrifying storm.

The instructor shook away the queerness. It was perhaps, not the weather that was bothering him. His hands discreetly moved to a heavy pouch hanging on his belt, of what felt to be filled with rolls of money he thought he did not deserve. He removed his hands immediately, pushing all discouraging thoughts out of his head and turned away from the window to his subjects, his task – Academy Students that have just entered the final phase of their academy life, before they were to be approved to move on and serve their Village as an able combatant – a shinobi. They were the fifteen initiates that were to be trained and tested by the toughest instructor known in the Konoha Village.

Takeshi Hanashiro, the widely known Special Jounin, highly ranked and experienced warrior of the Konoha Village, has officially been retired from the field. His last dangerous mission robbed him of his left eye and his bones were shattered in sixteen different places, significantly affecting his battle capabilities. However, retiring the experienced soldier would cause a significant loss to the village, thus, the Hokage's offered him the role of an instructor, which he accepted with much resentment after his two-year rehabilitation. His mission portfolio could have earned him a role as a strategic advisor or a mission coordinator; however, his political aptitudes has been often called into question. He mouth has stirred up much many ill favors within the village, causing a great deal of unhappiness amongst those with power.

Nothing appeared to be simple, whether it was in the field or out.

He looked at his students and was quickly reminded of his role to groom these young bodies into competent fighters. To arm them with the necessary knowledge and attitude to survive in the terrifying world of subterfuge and violence.

_Discipline was universal_ - it was the mantra that he has repeated reinforced to many of his students for the past two years. Many seemed to be doing well in as Genins. Whatever that he was doing, he must have done something right as his superiors have nothing but praises for those under his tutelage.

_Perhaps teaching was not a bad choice afterall, _he smiled to himself temporarily, _but…would it last?_

Two days ago, several hours before Takeshi received word of his promotion to Instructor Level Three - where he would wield the power to decide whether or not the student would advance to the next stage. A so-called representative of the Hidden Village's Covert Arms Division approached him with a proposal.

_The cloaked individual with a mask. _

The shady individual's request was simple. As Takeshi would train Academy students that was soon going to graduate as Genins. For a rather lucrative fee, he was to additionally identify the most talented of the batch and have him, or her, failed.

He breathed a heavy sigh. His hands moved to the heavy, unopened pouch. He supposed the contents inside translated into 'a gift of goodwill from interested parties'. They assured that no harm will come to the student, that the interested parties were only offering him or her a different path away from the hierarchy.

Everyone had a price.

He pushed all thoughts away and took a quick scan over the students. With his index finger, he gestured the first Academy Student standing on the far right, no taller than three feet, to approach him.

"Name," Takeshi demanded identification of the bespectacled, blackhaired youngling.

The young boy stood rigidly and bowed respectfully, "Shiro Nobu, sensei," he spoke with clarity, eyes fixed the ground.

Takeshi was already assessing the lad. His posture, the core strength, confidence. Average. But of course, the best test of a character, was from an exchange of blows.

"Strike at me," Takeshi gave his following command.

But Nobu did not respond immediately, the tired looking boy merely remained bowed while from the corner of his eyes, spied at the Jounin apprehensively.

"Until you're ready to strike upon order without a moment of hesitance, you will never carry the title of a shinobi," Takeshi reprimanded coldly the boy whom dared not attack his instructor, "Get out of my sight and give me five laps on the field."

Nobu bowed even deeper before bolting to door, towards the field.

"You," he motioned a dark-haired girl, "Name."

"Pan, sensei," the girl emulated her mate, bowing before the sensei.

"You must think me as your friend," Takeshi did not change his hard gaze, "…or that you are such a dishonor to your family that you'll shame them for speaking your full name."

"That's not true," said the girl with a slight shake in her voice, "I have no parents."

"Do I hear whimpers? Parents or no parents, when the enemy points their blade at you, you do not reveal your weakness," Takeshi reprimanded again, "Five laps, now."

Pan bowed lower, before running out towards the field.

"You," Takeshi gestured a slightly heavy, stocky lad, "Name."

"Otaka Tamara, sensei," he bowed.

"Strike at me," Takeshi ordered.

Otaka bowed lower, acknowledging before he looked up, his eyes meeting Takeshi's. His legs shifted into a striking position, his right arm pulled back to deliver a jab into the instructor's torso.

"Too slow," Takeshi intercepted the jab, and with a swift motion twisted it and resulted in a paralyzing grapple, "Too weak," he then added a little pressure, which induced a small cry.

"Five laps, you'll need it," he hissed into the boy's ears before letting him go, watching him limping rapidly out of the room.

_Weak_. Takeshi surmised, shaking his head while observing the remaining twelve.

"Your parents must have been doting you brats like the precious little things you are," Takeshi growled, "Unfortunately, this is not how it works in my Dojo. I was born into an era of war, and we then did not have the luxury of having roofs over our heads, or such cozy homes to stay. We lived out in the battlefield, where what we ate were mouldy riceballs and dogs' meat.

I killed my first enemy when I was seven, five years younger than what you lots are now," Takeshi nearly spat, "…and now you cannot even land a blow on me.

If you asked me, the young of the Konoha villages today are brats, weaklings. Thirty-years ago you guys would have already graduated and are out there in the field completing Assassination missions. During the invasion of Orochimaru, the Third-Hokage wouldn't have needed to lift a single finger. But no, he had to, and in the process, forfeiting his life to make up for all of your weaknesses.

You don't have like me," Takeshi barked, "I don't have to like you. But I have been assigned the task to train all of you, and I will. Until you have satisfied me, every weakness won't be tolerated."

"NEXT," he called out the next in line, a girl with pale, white pupils that could only be linked as a member of the powerful Hyuuga clan. They genetically inherited all-seeing eyes, which gave them superior 360 degree radius vision, "You're a Hyuuga."

"Hyuuga Hanabi, sensei," she bowed.

"Then I hope this apple hasn't fall as far from the tree as the other one," Takeshi said, referring to her elder sister, Hyuuga Hinata, a genin known throughout Konoha to be weak descendant of the clan.

Takeshi could instantly feel a bolt of hate.

BOOM.

Without warning, he deflected a single jab from the ferocious spirit, only to receive another volley of ten. In under five seconds, he estimated that he has intercepted at least seventy lightning-fast strikes. She pressed on and gained momentum along the way. But Takeshi merely observed as he dodged her attacks, noticing her disciplined footing that synchronized perfectly with her mechanically precise attacks, with adequate chakra pushed into each delivery that formed genuinely lethal force.

But being young, however, she lacked pacing, and knew her flurry of attacks would soon tire her out. He waited for a lapse in concentration in the midst of an array of vicious jabs.

_NOW_

He timed his counter-attack, knocking her hands away when her stance was at her weakest. He delivered a controlled palm strike to her exposed chest, releasing a controlled explosion of chakra, bodily energies, to compress her lungs.

The martial and kinetic power pushed her back, instantly suffocating the young girl but she remained standing still.

_Interesting. _Takeshi nearly smiled, rather impressed with her skill and endurance.

"Give me five laps," Takeshi maintained his strictness, producing no cheer.

She did not move, her fierce eyes obviously protested against his verdict.

"Ten laps then," Takeshi doubled her sentence, "NOW."

She broke her stance, bowed, before running out into the field.

"Until either any of you idiots can land a blow at me, your fate will be as the other four out there," he scanned the remaining students, contemplating on sending all of them out into the field. The remnants looked meek and genuinely stressed, except for the lanky student standing at the end of the line. He was fully and tightly clothed without revealing an inch of his skin, where over his head was a cowl adorned with swirls of dark red. It was large and wide, dipping over his face and masking his face from all sides. "YOU," gesturing him to approach.

But for the longest time, the student was non-responsive. Standing still without fidgeting, his posture still and stiff like a statue.

Takeshi was about to hurl verbal abuses when the tall apparition-like individual took the first step forward. His limbs moved, revealing a body that was bandaged in strips of leather, with an open necked, long-sleeved shirt donned over his lean scrappy torso. Every step seemed calculated, and the distance between each pace was almost equal in distance.

He finally arrived before the instructor, but offered no bows.

"Name," Takeshi asked with a ring of annoyance in his tone.

"Jusori, Ryuu," a shrill, strange and a deep, emanated from beyond the cowl, an unusual resonance that bounced within the canal of the Instructor's ears. Takeshi suddenly threaded with caution.

"Strike at me," Takeshi said perfunctorily, whilst mentally prepared to receive any attacks, he did not reflect that instinct physically however, only formulating the possible defensive measures in his head. A jab, a punch, a kick… he speculated in calm, yet, he was a little unsettled. There was something different about this student.

Takeshi waited for a movement, a feign, a slight movement. But Jusori did not react, he stood there stoic. His body not taking in any air, his diaphragm unmoving. He tried to catch a glimpse of his face, but the cowl has cast darkness over Jusori's face. Like a void, empty.

"What are you waiting for?" The instructor said out loud, attempting to taunt the Academy Student. But the lad still did not respond, standing there with no sign of aggression, like a lifeless spectre, a ghost lingering too long after death.

The cowl.

"If you have no interest in participating in my lessons, then you are free to never set foot in my Dojo," Takeshi said finally, "Get out of my sight until you are serious enough."

But Jusori still did not move, he stood there as if inviting a strike from Takeshi.

Takeshi would not want to strike on the student, it was not part of the exercise. But yet, Jusori appeared to be playing some kind of trick on him, if he was indeed trying to be smart, then a lesson is in order to adjust his attitude.

Another clap of thunder broke out from the skies, followed by a single deafening streak of lightning that shook the very foundations of the building. Takeshi readjusted his footing to stay stable, but Jusori did not as if he defied gravity, not moving even by a little sway. A terrible wind then howled through the halls and corridors. The doors rattled violently, before holes were ripped in the paper walls.

A single drop of rainwater dripped from above, falling before Takeshi's feet, then another to form a continuous drip. The leak was getting worst, the raindrops increased in volume. He looked above, the storm was removing the tiles one by one, allowing more water to seep through.

His heart pounded harder, the storm was escalating as the rain broke through the roof, pouring in around him.

"Strange weather," a voice came from Jusori whom was now even more drenched.

Takeshi blinked to the déjà vu. The voice has drawn his attention, and it came from the emptiness of the cowl. He searched deeper for his face, for a hint of flesh. But the murky darkness made his head spin and heart paced at an uneven rate. He watched further and saw movement within the cowl, with blackish slime leaking out from the edges of the cowl, chunks dropping onto the floor to absorb the water around them.

More blackness gushed out from Jusori's face and crawled down his body, swelling in size. The grisly slob then started to move and soon came alive, tentacles extended out of the organic mass, drumming up sluggish sounds as it slowly consumed a stoic Jusori.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" The other academy students belted screams, the black abomination's tentacles starvingly reached the heels of the kids and wrapped around their flesh, dragging their bodies into the core of the growing slob.

Takeshi stood there dumbfounded without realizing quickly enough what was happening , "JUSORI, THAT'S ENOUGH!" he yelled out at the unfolding horror while removing three Kunais from his pouch, they were steel blades with rings at the end of four-inch hilts. As he got into an attacking stance, the children were now helplessly struggling against the supernatural tensile strength of the blob. It wrapped itself all over their bodies, the thick black mud filling in their noses and mouths, garrotting them.

"DO SOMETHING, TAKESHI SENSEI!"

He pulled out a reel of thin string encrusted in fine glass, speedily tying from the end to end of the rings of two Kunais', leaving the third Kunai dangling in between. He hurled one of the Kunais to anchor around the ceiling support beams. He pulled the other Kunai towards his chest to tighten the diamond string, plucking it and nudging it to test his strength with his free hand. The fine glass tore his foreskin and drew blood, and he dabbed a line of red on each of the Kunais.

He was ready.

In one swift motion, his both Kunais up into air to free his hands to perform a Ninjutsu, the art of the Shinobi. He slapped his palms together, before forming a series hand movements to complete the technique.

"_Ninpo," _he chanted,_ "Souls of the Flying Daggers."_

The Kunais then suspended in air, Takeshi has assumed control of the blades through a blood connection.

His mind poured fourth full concentration to manoeuvre the hovering daggers. Coordinating the two kunais as they flew from corner to corner of the Dojo, webbing and encircling the blob from every direction to cut across the tentacles that were holding the students captive.

As a final move, both Kunais ended back up in Takeshi's hands, where he hurled another kunai around the support beams on the other end. The middle Kunai stayed within his palm.

"_Decapitating Spider Web," _with a single tuck, Takeshi pulled the Kunai pulled he glass-encrusted string together. The sharp lines ate right through the blob, severing all the vital points of the blob and cutting loose all the students in anguish.

But the stubborn blob was still clinging and suffocating the students, the severed parts were slowly rejoining the core.

"SENSEI, IT'S EATING ME ALIVE!" one of the Academy students screamed at the top of her lungs, blood burst out of her mouth while being in the grasp of the monstrous goo.

"NOOOO!" Takeshi leapt fourth to aid the child.

"IT'S BITING ME SENSEI!" tears flowed out of her eyes, "IT'S EATING ME!"

"Stay still!" Takeshi performed another technique.

"_Ninpo! Palms of Fire!" _

A jet of fire spew fourth from his hand to roast the abomination but could not spare the student from the heat.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" the student wailed from the intense pain.

Takeshi's heart sank, almost breaking into a million pieces.

SPLASH!

The blob has accumulated so much heat that it burst, revealing the freed student's scalded and mangled body with flesh opened and gored.

"Dear god," Takeshi whispered to himself, starting take in shorter, quicker breath, "JUSORI!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. He looked around, the Dojo was turning into a slaughterhouse, blood was intermixing with the downpour that the whole room turned red. The black blobs were gradually turning red and fleshy with blue veins popping out, as if they were consuming flesh to become a muscle.

He could no longer contain himself. So with all his strength, he launched the Kunai at Jusori, whom had now turned into red flesh. The kunai cut through the air and stuck onto the meat.

But it was to no avail, it slowly consumed the dagger.

Takeshi prepared himself to launch a fresh barrage of attacks before a voice entered his head.

_Release._

The rain stopped abruptly. The image of rain and dampness replaced instead by sunny rays.

The Students stood in their positions with no signs of injuries, with only shock and horror scribing on their faces.

Jusori stood before him, his hand seemed to have caught one of his kunais.

Everything appeared to be normal, with his forehead touched by a pair of delicate hands. He slowly turned his head left, recognizing a female Jounin – a kunoichi.

Genjutsu, an illusion-based technique, capable of sending victims into dream-like state. He realized he had fallen into one, and the female Jounin has managed to bring him out Jusori's attack. She sent some chakra into the victim's body to disrupt the Genjutsu user's spell.

He did not realize that he was holding his breath.

"I…I…" he tried to understand what happened.

"You attacked one of your students," the female shinobi said, with her light-orange hair tied into a bun, "…under the influence of Genjutsu," she turned and glared at Jusori. "The genjutsu lasted only about a few seconds, but it was enough to make you act the way you did," she held her gaze at Jusori, "…whatever that was cast, it wasn't a simple one. At least not for his age."

Jusori lowered his hand that held the Kunai, his head studying the weapon before tucking in beneath his shirt, as if wanting it for a prize.

Takeshi looked ashamed, puzzled, confused, all emotions wrapped in his trouble eyes, "I…, I didn't know…"

"All of you," Hana barked at the other students, "…out of the Dojo."

The fourteen of them took a small bow before scurrying out of the Dojo, all stealing menial glance at the boiling drama before vanishing out of sight.

"Ryuu Jusori, right?" the kunoichi raised her voice, directing at the strange boy, "My name is Mizu Hana, Jounin of the SGTG, the Special Genjutsu Task Group. YOU…" she lowered her gaze, "…are going to make some choices today."


End file.
